


they say we stand for nothing

by admiraloftheships



Series: continuum [2]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Based on a John Mayer song, Insecurity, Jazz - Freeform, Waiting on the world to change, chloe is actually smart, masking yourself, trying to find depth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:40:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24507814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/admiraloftheships/pseuds/admiraloftheships
Summary: Set in my continuum universe, references my previous fic but you probably don't need to read it to understand most of this one. Pre-Queen Bee Chloe.Chloe hated when her father rerouted the car for a foreign dignitary. She hated the rain when Sabrina wasn't in school. Most of all, she hated having to pretend to be the perfect high-class mean girl when she'd rather stay in her room, doodle and listen to music. Chloe knew there wasn't much she could do to change that. Meeting a pretty stranger in the rain just might.
Series: continuum [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1705189
Kudos: 7





	they say we stand for nothing

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully new readers won't be too lost by references to my previous fic in the series, I've hopefully managed to make the fic stand alone well enough. Enjoy!
> 
> We keep on waiting (waiting)  
> Waiting on the world to change  
> It's hard to beat the system  
> When we're standing at a distance  
> So we keep waiting (waiting)  
> Waiting on the world to change  
>  \- John Mayer

Chloe Bourgeois looked up at the sky and huffed in disbelief. It was going to rain. On her. Really, she’d expected better. Was this all you got for being literally the mayor’s daughter? Literally? It had to be a bad joke.

And just to make things worse, this was on the one day Sabrina wasn’t in school. Usually Sabrina could be relied upon to be there with an umbrella, or at least shelter her with her bag until the car came around. 

And there was no car today, which made things even worse. Of course she wasn’t more important than hosting some old diplomat from Latvia. She was the mayor’s daughter, not some…

Chloe let out a breath, and looked around. She was standing outside the school, but it had already been thirty minutes after dismissal, and no one else was around. 

Eyes closed for a second, Chloe let her shoulders slump, letting out a sigh as she relaxed her posture. It wasn’t exactly the hardest life in the world, but being lonely wasn’t quite that easy either. 

She let herself lean back against the school gate. Her head drooped, just a little bit. This wasn’t how she imagined herself, this far into the school year. 

She was popular, wasn’t she? Loved by all?

“Ow!” Chloe flinched as her ponytail was trapped in the gap between the gates. Pulling herself clear, she glared at the gate, where a few strands of long, blond hair now resided.

This was the final straw, she decided. 

All the other students were gone, and with them, any hope of figuring out the bus system properly. Chloe huffed. Well, then. The answer was obvious, at least to her. Try to find her way to somewhere nice, like a glitzy cafe or a boutique, and shelter there until her dear father finally decided to send someone to pick her up.

The wind picked up a little, fraying the end of Chloe’s ponytail as she walked aimlessly down the street. 

Chloe wasn’t stupid. Or at least, not as much as some people assumed. Being the glamorous blonde often earned such snide comments, but Chloe let her reputation speak for herself. 

She’d come to this school with some of the highest qualifying grades, not just because her daddy could pay the fees.

Then she’d been a top student, maybe not always at the top, but always damn near close to it. Popular, too. Chloe let her feet carry her around and around Paris, as she continued to muse to herself.

Yes, popular. Everyone looked to her when she entered a room, fawned over her at lunch, complimented her whenever she preened to herself. She never showed the others her room, though. Not even Sabrina, not yet.

Because her room was cluttered with notes and textbooks and obsessive drawings everywhere, because Chloe knew she wasn’t at perfection, but she so desperately wanted to get there. 

Chloe tried to push her mother out of her mind. She didn’t need to think about that right now, while she was walking down a street with a gust breathing down her neck.

She really should’ve brought a thicker jacket, or a sweater, or something. Something thicker than her thin, stylish jacket, at least.

Chloe looked up and around her. This was new. She stood at a junction, in some section of Paris closer to the suburbs. Nothing around her seemed familiar at all.

There was a low rumble on the horizon, and Chloe bit her lip, tapping her fingers against the side of her white trousers. She glanced around, again, hoping for a familiar face, or a familiar thing, but nothing really jumped out to her as...wait, wait…

Right there. That bakery. “ _ The Dupain-Cheng Bakery _ ”. Wasn’t that? Chloe turned away sharply, spinning on her heel, breathing out quickly. 

“No, no, no,” Chloe rubbed her temples, trying not to hyperventilate. Marinette Dupain-Cheng most definitely did not like her, not at all, and for good reason. Chloe had been, well, a little, okay, quite a bit, rude to her over the years. She could not go inside that bakery, and she really didn’t want to. 

The sky grew darker and darker over her head. A tap on her shoulder. Chloe hesitantly held her hand out in front of her. Another tap. A raindrop on her palm.

“Shit,” Chloe muttered. She cast another glance at the warm-looking bakery in front of her. Chloe peered in through the windows, and caught a glimpse of blue-black hair. And before she realised what she was doing, she found herself sprinting down the street past the bakery, and it was at that moment that the sky decided to release all the rain currently stockpiled over Paris.

\--

Marinette had just come down to get a snack when she saw a figure in yellow standing uncertainly outside the bakery. She tilted her head to try to get a look through the windows, but the figure froze still like a startled cat.

And very much like a startled cat, bolted immediately afterwards, a long, blonde, ponytail trailing behind her.

“Dad?” Marinette called.

“Yes?” Tom responded from the counter. 

The sky erupted, and the rain came down, and Marinette had to raise her voice. “Did anyone come in for anything?”

Tom looked up at her. “No, nothing yet. And it looks like we won’t be getting customers for a bit,” He waved at the rain.

“Yeah,” Marinette’s fingers twitched. Who was that? She almost could’ve sworn that it was Chloe standing outside the bakery. But why would she? Chloe hated her, and it wasn’t as though Chloe was the type to come to small bakeries anyway.

Marinette couldn’t quite shake that lingering suspicion, however, and went back upstairs, still trying to tell herself not to think it.

\--

Chloe could feel her clothes get soaked instantly as the rain hit her like a punch to the gut. Her makeup, her meticulously crafted eyeshadow, was running down her face, and Chloe desperately wiped at her eyes. 

A dark green awning loomed in front of her, and Chloe felt a massive sense of relief as she redoubled her pace, swinging her arms wildly. 

She felt her balance give way on the slick cobblestones, and she went crashing down into the shelter, skidding and slamming into something hard and round.

Chloe let out a pained squeak, and found herself, very suddenly, with her nose in a bunch of roses. Her clothes were soaked, and her makeup was pretty much running off her face like a marker dropped in a river.

But at least, Chloe thought, drawing in a deep breath, she could smell something nice. 

What was the use? Nothing ever really went her way, or at least, things never went the way she wanted them to. 

She wanted to date Adrien Agreste, the really cute and nice boy. She wanted to be truly popular and liked, and not have leeches fawn over her. What could she do?

None of the above. She couldn’t even really make friends. 

The other students in the school didn’t see it, not really.

That Chloe really wanted to change things, but not enough to do something about it. She was just waiting. Hoping no one would notice. Chloe closed her eyes, blurry with warm droplets falling down her face, and buried her nose deeper into the roses. 

The water was beginning to really soak down past her shirt, and Chloe began to shiver. 

There was a click of a door opening, and Chloe heard footsteps come out of the store, presumably a florist’s, and stop right in front of her. 

A sigh.

Chloe really didn’t need someone else’s pity right now, in the middle of a storm, lost, alone. Well, not quite alone. 

A repetitive sound, right beside her ear. 

Chloe still didn’t move, hoping whoever it was standing there wouldn’t demand she stand up and recompense for whichever flowers she’d damaged by running headlong into the display. 

“I’m tapping my foot, by the way,” a low, smooth voice said, amused. 

“Just in case you didn’t realise, on account of you being flat out in some of my best roses.” The voice spoke again, closer this time, leaning down closer to Chloe. A girl, Chloe decided. 

“I’m relatively sure you’re awake and listening,” the voice continued, “so I won’t go through the indignity of dragging you upright and off the ground into the shop. Although I’m relatively sure that if that’s what it came to, I’d be more than willing to pull that off.”

Chloe kept her eyes squeezed shut. She didn’t need warmth now, just a cold and thus an excuse to skip school for a couple days while she recollected herself. So she’d stay right here, thank you very much, mysterious voice. 

“Alright, then,” the voice said, sounding equal parts amused and exasperated. “Let’s try this, then.”

Chloe could feel the warmth radiating off the girl as she leaned over her prone body, the girl humming softly to herself. 

Chloe felt her muscles tense up. What was she-

And then Chloe felt a burst of laughter erupt from her throat as she rolled away from the hands which were suddenly present, spidering over her sides and ribs. 

“H-hey!” Chloe managed between bouts of laughter. “Q-q-uit it!” 

The girl’s fingers stopped moving. 

“Are you coming inside now?” she asked. Chloe opened her mouth to refuse, then reconsidered as she realised that warm fingers were still poised on her midsection, ready to wreak havoc if she refused.

“F-fine,” Chloe muttered. The girl’s fingers pulled back, and Chloe swung herself unsteadily to her feet. A warm arm clamped firmly around Chloe’s waist, and they stepped into the shop, and a gust of warm air enveloped Chloe. 

Chloe let her shoulders sink in relief. 

“Sit here,” the dulcet voice instructed, guiding her to a flat surface to sit, a half-cleared display table in the centre of the small store. Then footsteps, as the voice stepped away from her.

Chloe took this chance to raise her shivering fingers to her face, rubbing the water and mascara out of her eyes. As her vision cleared, Chloe took a good look around. She was right in assuming that a florist had been the one to help her, either that or the owner was insanely into flowers.

With all the things that Paris had to go through these days, Chloe really wouldn’t be surprised if she really had ended up in a place filled with flowers that really sold...mousetraps or something. 

She took a moment to gape at the selection. An array of blues, yellows, and reds, along with a shroud of green, were perched on the walls and displays in a beautifully organised manner. 

Everything Chloe’d hoped to make her life seem like. This wasn’t quite the same, but it worked well enough as a metaphor. Chloe may have acted the mean girl, but she was still a top literature student. 

She looked outside, at the rain falling in sheets. Chloe patted down herself, checking her pockets. Her phone was wet, but it still lit up, and it seemed fine. Her wallet was the finest leather, and most of her cards and her cash were untouched. 

Chloe let out another breath, one of the deeper, more dramatic ones, as she curled her fingers around herself, and tried to warm herself up. 

She closed her eyes again.

“Are you always going to be asleep, or will be awake the next time I come back?” the voice asked, and suddenly, a thick, warm towel was being draped around her shoulders, and a tissue box was being pressed into her hands. 

“Go ahead, get warm. Clean yourself up. You could be here a while, might as well get comfortable.”

Chloe instinctively nodded and began dabbing at her face, cleaning herself up. As she wiped the last of her running makeup off her face, and as the towel began to absorb the worst of the chill, she turned to thank her rescuer.

Before, Chloe hadn’t been able to get a good look at the florist, on account of rainwater in her eyes and her own swirling emotions.

Now, under warm lights, Chloe found herself slipping back into her school self, instantly appraising and judgemental.

The girl standing beside her seemed oddly familiar. Tall, probably a little taller than herself, light honey blond hair falling in vague waves down her back. Blue eyes, just a shade darker than hers, and this girl, whoever she was, was beautiful.

Chloe liked to think of herself as an expert on such things, and as she swept her gaze up and down the girl’s body, she found herself thinking that this girl, whoever she was, reminded Chloe of something just out of reach. 

She looked like a model, even moved like a model, all fluid grace, but she couldn’t actually be a model. Not working in a florist’s. Some nagging feeling told her that she knew this girl, from somewhere, somewhere somewhat important.

Not from school, Chloe knew, this was the kind of girl you didn’t forget if you were glimpsing her every day. But she was somewhere. Something to do with flowers. 

Lost in thought and recollection, Chloe started suddenly, realising that the girl’s face was right in front of hers. 

“Maybe you’d like to actually talk about stuff instead of staring blankly into space,” the voice said again. 

Chloe found herself the subject of an intensely soul-searching gaze that seemed to bore deep into the depth of her own soul. Or maybe it was just how pretty the other girl’s eyes were.

“Hello? Care to introduce yourself?” The girl tilted her head, her eyes now scanning Chloe from head to toe. 

“Uhh...” Chloe managed.

“That won’t do. That’s hardly a name at all. I have a knack for nicknames, though, so there we go,” Chloe felt dizzy by the speed with which the girl was changing subjects. The girl was pacing now, biting her lip in thought. Then she swiveled to face her, smiling brightly. Chloe was trying not to panic. 

Who was this girl, and why was she so amused? At what? 

“I’ll just call you Rosie, on account of how I found you sprawled face first in my mother’s second-favourite roses,” the girl said, her voice brightening noticeably.

“Rosie?” Chloe found herself asking.

“Like I said,” the girl shrugged, “I have a penchant for nicknames. It helps with the...mystery. For example, for lack of a better name, you can just call me...what would you like to call me?”

Chloe blinked. What in the world was happening? The girl was looking at Chloe expectantly, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the wooden table.

“Uhh...”

“Get warm, then,” she said, tucking some long blond hair behind her ear. “Think on it.”

The girl stood up and went over to the counter, settling behind the register. Chloe looked at her own hands, which were still wet and clammy. Suddenly self-conscious, Chloe began to pull at the towel on her back, wiping her hands dry. 

Rosie. Chloe rolled the name around in his mind. Rosie. She kind of liked it. She picked up her phone to check the time. It would still be another hour before her father finished with the Latvian representative, and based on how the sky looked, Chloe would be here for that hour anyway. 

Rosie. That was tempting.

“Why do you give people nicknames?” Chloe asked, suddenly. The girl looked up from behind the counter. 

“Two reasons,” the girl began. “Firstly, it’s fun. Secondly, some people don’t introduce themselves. Don’t know exactly why. Some people just charge in too fast to introduce themselves, some people just don’t want to share their names. Some people prefer it that way.”

Chloe opened her mouth, and then closed it. Her mind was swirling now. Why did she like that nickname? She felt no pull to actually tell the girl her real name. Let herself be Rosie for an hour. 

“Got a name yet?” the girl asked. “It’s not like we’re in a rush, are we?” 

“No,” Chloe acknowledged. 

“We’re just waiting,” the girl gestured outside at the rain pouring down, “waiting on the rain to finally stop.”

Chloe narrowed her eyes. All her vaunted intelligence, her desire to become a fashion designer of the highest class, and she couldn’t come up with one name? One name? 

She found herself scanning the shelves. 

“Well, Flower Girl is a little too on the nose,” Chloe began. The girl’s lips twitched in a smile. 

“And just Flora seems a little tame,” Chloe stood and began to pace. This was  _ fun _ . “Now naming you after a flower could be easy, but I’d rather get a little more personal. Something more...artistic.”

Chloe ran through a mental colour palette in her mind. She was a designer, right? She could just assign a colour code. 

“Eggs!” Chloe blurted. 

The girl tilted her head quizzically. “I’m not sure if that was meant as a compliment or not.”

Chloe blushed, and tried to speak properly.

“Your eyes. Robin’s egg blue. So, um, Robin, I suppose.”

The newly named Robin tilted her head the other way and narrowed those robin’s egg blue eyes at Chloe.

“Robin. I like that, Rosie,” she said, winking. 

Chloe felt a flush of excitement, because God, now she understood why some of those socialites her father hosted loved masquerades. The thrill of being unknown, not needing to live up to a reputation or a name. 

She was feeling that now. Freedom. A weight off her shoulders. Chloe smiled back at Robin, for once entirely sincere. 

“You’re welcome,  _ Robin _ ,” Chloe said, smirking down at the other girl with a little of her old confidence back. But not entirely, though. It’s hard to be convincingly confident when you’re still clad in damp clothes. 

“So, now that we’ve finally been introduced,” Robin drawled, “what brings you to this little florist’s shop over such...unpleasant circumstances?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Chloe said, rolling her eyes. Impulsively, she pulled her hair free from her trademark ponytail, letting it fall straight down her back. “Just out for a walk, when suddenly, the rain came down. And then, in my hurry for shelter, I ended up nose-deep in roses. Not quite the worst way to go out.”

“It could’ve been worse,” Robin agreed, those eyes narrowed and evaluating. Chloe hoped her mask was still up. Rosie. Rosie. For now, your name is Rosie. 

“Well, it hasn’t been a really great day either,” Chloe mused, “so some roses aren’t exactly unwelcome.”

“Now that makes me suspicious, Rosie,” Robin sat forward, leaning over the counter propped up on her elbows. “What’s a nice girl like you doing to get yourself a bad day?”

“Nothing particularly specific,” Chloe admitted. “Stuff like that happens all the time, I just happened to not-”

Chloe snapped her mouth shut. She’d nearly said, “ _ not have the driver pick me up. _ ” She didn’t want that. Didn’t want Robin to see through her facade and realise that she didn’t really have anything of her own. That she was no one. Stood for nothing. 

What would Rosie say? Rosie was a timid girl, Chloe decided. Quieter, better with her words. She lived a comfortable life, but not a wealthy one. She was nice to everyone. 

“-not really have my friend with me,” Chloe finished. Yeah. Rosie could have a friend, right? Named Sabrina. Who actually did stuff with Rosie, and didn’t just pick up after her. She just so happened to look and think and talk like the Sabrina who tailed Chloe Bourgeois.

“A friend, hmm?” Robin let another brief smirk light up her face. “Interesting, indeed, that one friend could send you running into a box of roses.”

“Well, it’s not just that,” Chloe ducked her head shyly. “I-I don’t really have a lot of friends. Real friends.”

Robin sighed. “Really? I thought a girl like you wouldn’t be lacking of any friends. You remind me a little of another girl I know. If you were just a little braver, maybe you’d be able to turn acquaintances into true friends.”

“Maybe that’s true,” Chloe allowed, “but I don’t really...can’t really...”

Robin’s eyes softened. “You know, as a florist, a lot of people often come in and out quickly, and I need to be able to gauge things even faster. So I don’t need specifics, really.”

“For people who buy flowers?”

The snark, Chloe thought, was maybe a tad too obvious. And Robin was picking up on it, definitely, the way she blinked slowly and deviously in that silence that followed. Chloe cursed herself. She had the chance to play a role she never could, with a pretty girl, and this was what she came up with?

“I don’t always have the chance to be myself,” Chloe began. Robin stood, elegantly, like a cat. Chloe’s words died in her throat as they stood eye to eye. 

“Oh, no, please, continue, Rosie. This is my process. As long as I can hear.” Robin winked at her, and slipped out from behind the counter, staring at the racks of flowers. Chloe glanced outside past the doors. The rain was still coming down. 

“Uh...I have to...become someone else. And sometimes I’m not as nice as I could be,” Chloe looked around as Robin began to delicately remove flowers from the racks. “Some days I don’t have the chance to actually talk to people and let them know what I actually want.”

Robin hummed. 

Chloe turned to look at her, but the other blonde shook her head, gliding over to press her palm against Chloe’s eyes. 

“Ah, ah, ah, no peeking. Continue, Rosie.” Robin tutted. 

Chloe turned to face the other way in a huff. 

“Other days, I just feel a little lonely. But I have Sabrina,” Chloe added quickly. Rosie. Be Rosie. Don’t let her see who you are. 

“And she’s really nice to me. But I do feel...pressure. And I can’t do anything. Or, I know that I can but I won’t.”

“Just waiting,” Robin said. 

“Waiting?” Chloe asked.

“Yeah, Rosie. You just feel like you don’t have it in you to beat it. So you’re just waiting on the world to change around you. Sometimes it does.” Robin paused. Footsteps. A hand on Chloe’s shoulder. 

“Sometimes it doesn’t. Like that rain.”

Chloe really thought about that. She couldn’t change everything, but maybe she could change something. Rosie would try to change something. And somehow that mattered more to her than she thought. 

“So,” Robin said, cheerfully, “Here you go!”

Chloe turned around, and Robin was holding out a bouquet to her. It was mainly composed of shades of blue and violet, with sprigs of white flowers artfully placed in between, and three red roses. 

“Uh,” was the best Chloe’s mouth could manage. It was beautiful. The colours, the soft sound of rain pouring outside, the faint scent of roses suffusing the air. It felt like a brief apology, understated but sincere, a quiet expression of thanks, and it felt like something you just sat there and looked at for a while, waiting. 

“You can pass this to your friend, the next time you see her.” Robin said, pressing the bouquet into Chloe’s hands. “Make sure she knows that you don’t blame her or anything. Not that you’d make anyone feel that way, Rosie.”

Chloe felt her cheeks flush. Who was this girl? How was she reading Chloe like an open book?

“I recognise that look, Rosie,” Robin said. “You’re thinking ‘how did you know that?’ am I right?” 

Chloe lifted her head higher. “Yeah, I am. How did you know?”

Robin shrugged. “Magic? Really, I’m not sure. I just make guesses that usually work out. That’s the way I see it, anyway.”

Sabrina would probably appreciate these flowers, Chloe mused. And Rosie would definitely have given them to her. Rosie would’ve gotten these flowers purposely, instead of accidentally obtaining them by accidentally crashing into the shop of a pretty florist. 

“So,” Robin began, “how much longer do you plan on being here?”

“Plan?” Chloe asked. 

“Oh, come on, Rosie. I know you won’t be here forever, as much as I enjoy the company of another blonde, blue-eyed girl. It’s like looking into a very attractive mirror,” Robin winked at her.

Chloe tried to swallow. Robin was currently pulling off an absolute masterclass of effortless, pure charm, and Chloe was getting more intent on trying to remember how Robin was doing it. 

“Well, I’ll be here for at least,” Chloe checked her phone, “another 45 minutes, or whenever this rain lets up after that.”

“Well well well, I suppose we do have time,” Robin smiled. 

“So, Rosie, what do you suggest we talk about?”

“Well, Robin, I suppose we could talk about nearly anything,” Chloe smiled back, taking another breath of rose-scented air. Something was still tapping in the back of her mind, the place she recognised Robin from. But that didn’t quite matter yet. That could all wait.

\--

Marinette had been having a very tense argument with herself for the past twenty minutes. It hadn’t been over the usual things, thank God, but this time, over Chloe of all people. For some reason, she just couldn’t stop thinking about that strange figure that had gone bolting down the street when it had started to rain.

Because that figure had looked suspiciously like Chloe. 

Not that she really had a major problem with Chloe anymore. It had only been a month since she’d managed to tell off Chloe in the hallway for spreading rumours about a friend, but in that month, Chloe had been suspiciously subdued.

Marinette had been waiting for a big prank or reveal to drop any time, but so far, nothing. 

And now this. Interesting, it really was. She might have to ask for advice on how to handle this Chloe situation soon. Not Alya, she decided, Alya would definitely assume the worst and begin prepping an hour-long expose video on Chloe.

Nino would tell Alya and then they’d be back at square one. Adrien, nice though he was, was utterly and completely clueless about the extents to which Chloe could go, and Marinette didn’t want to ruin that. 

There was, well, yes, her other friend. The one who’d been behind the entire situation that had caused Chloe’s rumour mill to activate. The one who’d, somehow, maneuvered her into weekly study sessions with Adrien Agreste. Who provided romantic music on purpose. 

Marinette looked out of her window. The rain was still coming down, and hard. She could hardly go out now without a proper excuse. With the rain coming down this hard, who’s to say Chloe hadn’t already made it home?

But if it had been Chloe on foot outside the bakery, well, Chloe on foot didn’t seem like a good thing for Chloe, considering how she had a personal driver take her everywhere. Images of Chloe soaking wet hustling into the metro brought a smirk to Marinette’s face. 

Then her phone vibrated. Adrien?

**just had one of the strangest phone calls ever.**

what?

**so apparently chloe has me listed as a boyfriend**

excuse me?

**yeah so then I get a call from her maid telling me to get Chloe to go home**

**and um she insinuated that maybe Chloe and I had been doing**

doing?

**things**

things?

**yeah so anyway then she told me to tell Chloe to answer her phone and hung up on me**

is alya pranking you again?

**don’t think so. that was Chloe’s house number.**

wait so chloe isn’t home? and not at your house?

**yeah, of course. maybe she got her driver to drop her at a boutique or something**

Marinette bit her lip. Should she? If Chloe had been there, and soaking wet, she probably would’ve gone for shelter, standing in some lobby or something. She hadn’t even made it home, or called anyone. 

Just the surrounding area, then, Marinette thought experimentally. Just a quick look around. She looked out the window, and noted a warm light spilling out of a neighbour’s store. So, good chance that her friend would be available. 

She made her decision. 

Pulling an umbrella from the rack, she made her way downstairs. 

“Just heading over to have a chat,” Marinette said cheerily. Her father waved back to her. 

“Don’t get too wet!”

“I won’t!” Marinette called back, as she pushed the door open and opened her umbrella up to the pouring rain. 

\--

Music was dancing in and out of Chloe’s ears, and she wasn’t complaining. She usually wasn’t a music person. Except for Sabrina’s endearing weakness for boy bands. Some of them were cute, Chloe allowed. 

But now, well, she hadn’t expected to be in this position right now. Robin had told her to wait downstairs just a second, pulling a second chair from behind the counter. 

“You’ve had that how long?” Chloe’d asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, hush, Rosie, I like dry chairs,” Robin had instantly replied, as she pushed open a door and jogged up the staircase. 

“I’ll be back in a bit!”

She had, and that had led Chloe to her current predicament. 

Of all the possible things that Chloe had expected, she hadn’t anticipated Robin to come down bearing a Yamaha keyboard. Robin had explained that she usually took some time to practise, and with the rain coming down like this, and an audience, she could try something out. 

Chloe hadn’t thought that she would like music. But Rosie would’ve, she’d told herself. Rosie would be a music geek. Not like that boy Nino who wore his headphones everywhere, but someone who could quietly appreciate music.

In fact, she’d decided that the moment Robin had begun playing. Because Robin was good, humming along as her fingers splayed out and traced complicated patterns over the keys that brought soothing music into her ears, bringing her back.

It was the kind of music that they sometimes played in the background of the fancy balls her father hosted. Muted piano, comfortably supporting the conversation in the background. 

Chloe never really got to hear it too closely, never thought she would. She was hearing it now. 

Robin was playing with a beautific smile on her face, and before Chloe knew it, Robin was lifting her fingers off the keys, smiling. 

“Do you know another one?” Chloe blurted suddenly.

Robin’s smile, somehow, grew warmer.

“I was hoping you’d ask.” Robin tossed her blonde hair over one shoulder and mimed holding a microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you one and all for coming to my humble little concert. Today, my name is Robin, and here’s a little something for all my dear listeners out there.”

And that was how Chloe found herself in yet another strange circumstance, pretending to be someone she wasn’t, as she stood beside the keyboard with a brand new name and listened to a girl she’d literally just met singing a John Mayer song.

_ “Me and all my friends, we’re all misunderstood. They say we stand for nothing and there’s no way we ever could.” _

Chloe didn’t quite hear the door click open, and the slight gasp from that direction. Sabrina had liked this song, and asked her to listen to it, once upon a time. So, with that warm voice of Robin’s beside her, and the keyboard backing them up, Chloe opened her mouth, and actually began to sing.

“ _ We’re still waiting. Waiting! Waiting on the world to change. We keep on waiting. Waiting! Waiting on the world to change. _ ”

She let herself really be Rosie. Just a normal girl, singing a song she liked. And it didn’t hurt that she was singing it with a girl who basically looked like a model, and who was nice to her. Although she knew her from something.

When they finished, Chloe rested her arms on Robin’s shoulder. “Any other songs you think I’d like, Robin?”

There was a quiet shift as Robin turned her head to look at her, those sparkling robin’s blue eyes. Then Robin looked past her, and smiled. Chloe turned her head and froze. There, standing in the shop, was Marinette Dupain-Cheng, with her mouth wide open in shock. 

\--

Amelie “Robin” Delacroix had been having suspicions about who Rosie was for quite some time. Not too many people, after all, looked too hard at the background music. Rosie had reminded Amelie of a girl she’d glimpsed when her band had won a chance to perform at a gala hosted by the mayor last year. 

And of course, Amelie had spotted Rosie before, at the cafe where Adrien and Marinette met up, watching the two from a far table enviously for a moment before leaving. It was good that she did.

If Rosie had stayed, Gabrielle and Alya would most certainly have gone up and escorted her out like agents in a spy movie. 

Which would be a shame, because Amelie liked Rosie. Plus, Robin was a really kickass nickname no matter what way you put it. She hadn’t gotten something like that before. Mostly she’d been given nicknames of the blonde variation or the flower variation. 

Based on Marinette and Rosie’s equally stunned faces, Amelie had a good idea of what role Rosie usually played in Marinette’s life, and she felt a twinge of regret that sh’d have to pull down Rosie’s curtain.

Here goes nothing, Amelie thought.

“Hey Marinette!” she said brightly, “what brings you over in this appalling weather?”

“Oh, um,” Marinette stuttered. Amelie bit back a sigh. The stutter was mostly gone, anyway. Amelie secretly willed Marinette to recover quickly, so that most of the awkward silence could be dispelled.

She was only a little surprised when both Rosie and Marinette began talking at the same time. 

“I was just coming to check if you-” Marinette began.

Rosie was already talking, “I just so happened to stumble on this place-”

Amelie willed herself to control the hysterical laughter threatening to spill out of her mouth, and decided to intervene before everything came undone. 

“Oh, so you two know each other, Rosie?” Amelie turned her head to look back at the other blonde, whose eyes were darting frantically back and forth.

“What a wonderful coincidence! It just so happens that Marinette here is my neighbour, just a couple blocks down. Her parents sell the greatest croissants in Paris. Oh, you have to try them, Rosie.”

Amelie could feel Rosie’s fingers tighten slightly on her shoulder blade as she spoke. She smiled slightly to herself as Marinette restarted the conversation.

“Well, I don’t know about best in Paris, but they are awesome. Croissants. Awesome croissants.” Marinette managed. 

“Well, I’ll have to try them someday,” Rosie said, her tone shifting, taking on a more high-class, confident voice. 

“So, Marinette, what other than my brilliant company brings you over on such a rainy day such as today?” Amelie jested. 

“Well, actually, I was hoping I might run into...Rosie.”

Amelie glanced up quickly, and caught a faint glimmer of relief and a mouthed thank you on Rosie’s face.

“And why would that be?” Amelie asked, genuinely curious. 

“Um, so, Rosie...apparently one of your...aunts at home was wondering where you were. You weren’t picking up your phone, and I thought I saw you earlier, so,” Marinette managed unsteadily. 

Another lull of silence. Water dripped from Marinette’s umbrella onto the floor. 

“She was...worried?” Rosie’s voice was soft, raw. Nearly disbelieving.

Marinette nodded. “Worried enough to call me and Adrien. Hoped we might’ve seen you. Especially since Sabrina’s sick today.”

Amelie felt Rosie’s fingers tighten harder on her shoulder. 

“Yeah, yeah, oh, I’m sorry. Must’ve missed those calls,” Rosie said tightly. 

“Well then,” Amelie mustered her best smile. “Now that we’re all here, we might as well settle down for a little ladies’ chat and wait out the rain. But you,” Amelie turned to Rosie, “had better call your aunt. And Marinette,” She swivelled back, “If you don’t mind, a couple snacks would be nice?”

Amelie could see Marinette reading the unspoken message, and Marinette gave a firm nod. 

“I’ll be back soon,” Marinette lifted her umbrella and stepped outside. 

Rosie’s fingers finally uncurled from Amelie’s shoulder. “Go on, call her,” Amelie said encouragingly, looking up at Rosie’s nervous blue eyes.

“I-I will, Robin.” Rosie said softly. She looked tired, her shoulders drooping. “Perk up, Rosie,” Amelie tried, “And call me Robin anytime.”

Rosie nodded back, and ducked behind the door to the stairs, clutching her phone. 

It wasn’t, Amelie knew, her place to listen in. So she did what she always liked to do. Play. A semi-cheerful number, she let herself get lost in the music for a while. Then Marinette had returned, shielding a large paper box full of treats, and Amelie lapsed into casual conversation over what Amelie believed with all her heart were the best croissants in Paris. 

When Rosie finally slipped out, she looked a little happier. This was despite the puffy, red eyes, but she walked a little lighter, and that was a good thing. 

She also agreed with Amelie, moments later, as Amelie practically forced a croissant into Rosie’s hand.

\--

Robin hadn’t been lying when she’d said Marinette’s parents made the greatest croissants in Paris. Chloe was somewhat of an expert in fancy cafes and bakeries, and this stood out among all of those. 

Chloe sat down and ate, engaging in light conversation with Marinette and Robin. Chloe didn’t know how Marinette had it in her to treat Chloe like a nice acquaintance instead of a bane of Marinette’s existence. Marinette was even running along with the nicknames, although she kept pausing before addressing her or Robin. 

It was a great conversation. 

They’d talked music, colour schemes, a little fashion, a little literature, and of course, food. 

“If you want the greatest atmosphere in Paris, go to Seb’s Cafe. Now I’m not just saying that because I play there,” Robin proclaimed.

“Seb’s?” Chloe nearly did a spit-take. That was the cafe where Adrien and Marinette went to study on Fridays. Which meant. Oh. She was slow. Chloe was remembering now. Staring jealously at Marinette, she had only vaguely registered the music playing live, or the occasional flashes of blonde hair from behind the piano.

“Yeah. Have you been?” Robin’s eyes were considerably more focused than her tone. 

“Might’ve passed by a couple times, but clearly not when you were playing, Robin.” Chloe managed to keep her cool quite well, she thought.

“Well, Marinette here and Blondie seem to enjoy it, so there we go.”

Blondie? Adrien? Adrien had a nickname from Robin? Chloe turned to ask, and caught a good look at Robin’s profile. Adrien. Oh, oh, this was starting to make sense. It wasn’t just the cafe, wasn’t it? A terrible feeling was gathering in her stomach.

Because this was the mystery flower shop girl from a couple months ago. Chloe had only seen the one tabloid photograph, Adrien and a blonde girl talking over some flowers. The girl had been in profile. 

That girl, whom she had made fun of when in company of others in school, was currently sitting right next to her. Chloe remembered what she had felt when she’d read that article. 

Jealousy. Pride. Anger. But now Chloe was just disgusted with herself. Robin was nice, genuine, talented, and she hadn’t gone after Adrien like one of those crazed fangirls. 

And now, more than ever, Chloe was hoping that she’d never come up in conversation before between Marinette and Robin, and that Robin would never find out who she was. 

It was fifteen minutes later when the rain finally stopped.

Chloe checked her messages. One from her father. 

**Sorry, sweetheart. Send me the address and I’ll have Boris swing by in ten minutes.**

Chloe felt a flare of panic. Explaining away a chauffeur driving a car emblazoned “Mayor of Paris” would be beyond even her own skills. But she didn’t want to leave just yet. The illusion, playing Rosie, was just so liberating. But it couldn’t last.

So she did what came to mind. She stood quickly, gathering up her things. 

“Sorry, girls, but time’s wasting. I need to head home and finish some work. But it was lovely getting to know you, Robin. See you tomorrow, Marinette.”

“Shame you’re leaving so quickly,” Robin said, standing to usher Chloe to the door. 

Chloe felt Robin push the bouquet into her hands. “Remember to tell her it’s not her fault, you hear?” Robin looked deep into Chloe’s eyes. 

“I will.” Chloe found herself saying on autopilot. And impulsively, not as Rosie, just as Chloe, as herself, she flung her arms around Robin in a quick hug. 

“And thank you.”

“For what?” Robin asked, confused.

Chloe just smiled. “For waiting with me.”

Robin shook her head. “Remember, Rosie, you can be someone else. Someone different. And it’s okay to wait for a bit. Sometimes it helps you figure out what you should do next.”

Chloe let go, and reluctantly, turned and set off down the street. 

She’d see Marinette the next day, of course, and she resolved to actually be nicer. Most of all, she’d go home, and sit there. Ignore her worries and insecurities for a moment and wait.

Figure out who she was. Chloe walked a couple more blocks, and, certain she was out of sight, texted Boris the location she was at. He arrived not five minutes later, scrambling out of the door urgently. 

“Miss Bourgeois! I’m so glad you’re alright. Are you okay? You look like you got caught out in that downpour. Hurry, let’s get you inside. The heater’s on.” He ushered Chloe into the car, and they set off.

Chloe’s mouth was half open in shock. This was the most she’d ever heard out of Boris in a single sentence. She’d never paid much thought to him, or to Maria, her “aunt”, either. 

But somehow both of them seemed to care about her. A person who didn’t really know who to be, who was, Chloe knew, more than a little superficial. 

Maybe it was a good thing it had rained. A good thing that she’d gone crashing into Robin’s poor roses. Chloe set the bouquet down on the empty seat beside her, put her head back, and thanked Boris.

\--

Only a couple weeks had passed since then, and Chloe was reflecting on the little changes she’d begun to try to put into her life when her father guided her into the ballroom and she was surrounded by chatter and glittery dresses. 

Clad in a simple blue dress, Chloe ducked aside to get some breathing space. She used to love these things, because of how others used to tell her how beautiful she was and how she was just like her mother.

And who was she, really, then? So Chloe shied away from the throng of socialites, heading towards the stage band, where some of the less annoying people stood. 

She looked back, and saw the socialites gathering like vultures around her father and the big names of the night. Chloe let her lip curl in distaste as she stalked over to snatch one of those fancy fruit drinks that they always produced in vast quantities for such parties. 

As she filled her cup, she couldn’t help but notice a flower garland wrapped decoratively around the dispenser. 

Her lips twitched upwards instinctively, at the memory of flowers. When Sabrina had realised that the flowers were for her, the other girl had nearly hyperventilated herself out of existence. 

Chloe showing concern, apparently, could also induce that reaction. Sabrina was nice, and Chloe was slowly warming up to being open to her. 

It had been a tad annoying at first, with the way Sabrina always seemed to have makeup suggestions or something for her to try, but Chloe was getting used to it. 

The flowers also reminded Chloe of another girl. This time, a blonde. She hoped that Robin never found out exactly who she was, and how much she’d pretended to be someone else. Also, Adrien was beginning to talk to her more. Chloe didn't give up that easy, but she was realising that maybe pretending to be possessive wasn't quite the way to do it, and now they were talking a little more about their memories with each other over the years. 

Her self-fabricated super-obsessive crush was probably gone. 

Hopefully. 

There was the tapping of a microphone. Then her father’s voice.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. We’d like to thank our house band for providing us with the music so far. But last year, there was quite a stir when our next act came to perform for us. Many people enjoyed it, and so did I. So, let’s welcome...the Jazz Flower Girls!”

Chloe turned dismissively towards the stage. They’d performed last year? She’d left a little early, and had missed what the press termed “the sleekest jazz performance yet.” Chloe, now a proud owner of several jazz records, was a little curious. 

Then she caught a flash of blonde hair settling behind a piano. Chloe began to push through the gathering crowd, moving towards the stage. 

Of course, then a dulcet voice rang out across the room.

“Thank you, everyone. That’s Gabriella Giverne, on the bass. We have Hannah Novreau, on guitar, and Audrey Mitte on the drums...”

Chloe froze in the crowd. She looked up at the stage and met a pair of sparkling robin’s egg blue eyes. 

Robin smiled down at her. “And my name is Amelie ‘Robin’ Delacroix, and we’re gonna sing you a little song.”

Chloe felt herself stand a little straighter. Because Robin (it didn’t matter, in Chloe’s mind she was still Robin) didn’t seem to judge her at all, knowing who she really was. Probably knew all along but hadn't called her out. Had helped her find out who she was. What she stood for.

“I’d also like to invite a friend of mine, her stage name is Rosie, and let’s give her a big hand!” 

Chloe found herself stepping confidently onstage, to the gasps of the onlooking crowd. 

“So,” Robin said softly, “I sure hope Sabrina and I have been listening to the same tunes.”

Sabrina, Chloe realised, had been force-feeding her music for the past week. Very specific songs, too. 

“Oh, I bet you have.” Chloe smirked back, grabbing hold of the microphone. 

The band struck into gear, and Chloe began to sing, realising she liked it, that she didn’t need to be a walking reputation. 

“ _ They say we stand for nothing and there’s no way we ever could _ .”

Chloe knew it wouldn’t be easy. But she could wait.

“ _ Now we see everything that’s going wrong with the world and those who lead it. _ ”

She threw her head back, confident in herself, if not forever, then for that moment. 

“ _ And we’re still waiting. Waiting on the world to change... _ ”

**Author's Note:**

> This was an idea I've been rolling around in my mind since I first came up with Amelie: what if she met Chloe, who I always felt was trying to hide something? Would Chloe confront her own confusion over who she was besides the mean girl stereotype? I hope so. Thanks for reading, and there will be more in the continuum series, trying to explore a more existential version of the characters, so stick around if you're interested.
> 
> Music used: Waiting On The World To Change by John Mayer
> 
> Thanks again!


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